


Game, Afoot, Et Cetera

by gardnerhill



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25396237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: Sherlock Holmes has returned to London, and a new normal has emerged.This is a continuation of my storyThe Education of Geoffrey Lestrade
Relationships: Lestrade/John Watson
Comments: 13
Kudos: 20
Collections: Watson's Woes JWP Collection: 2020





	Game, Afoot, Et Cetera

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2020 July Watson's Woes Promptfest prompt #19, **Old Friends From The Yard:** Have a long-suffering inspector (Lestrade, Gregson, Athelney Jones, original character) show up or even feature in your work today.

Mrs. Beddowes' knock was far too early for someone not stoking a fire or sweeping a hearth. Only meant one thing. Yeah, it was a relief to have that back, but now it meant leaving a nice warm bed and the lovely warm body in it to answer the call of duty.

I came to the door in my dressing gown, taking the telegram addressed to me and interrupting the woman's apology. "I’m sure it's very important police business. Breakfast for both of us, please." The housekeeper immediately turned round to give orders to her own underlings to ready the coffee and toast and start the eggs for the gentlemen, now. Beddowes runs this place the way I run my station.

Now to wake my lover. I didn't need to open the message to know that both of us were wanted; it was addressed to me, and if he'd only wanted the other he'd have sent it courtesy of that one only.

My companion was a bundle of bedclothes, facing away from the door. No easy access for a good-morning kiss; I smacked the arse instead. "Up, me dear. It's your old missus, asking for both of us."

The rumpled bedclothes groaned and sat up. "Geoff, I wish you'd stop calling him that."

"I will when it stops being funny." I kissed John's scratchy cheek and headed to the washbasin as my lover staggered to his feet.

That comment was a bit unkind of me, seeing that Sherlock Holmes had practically given us two his blessing the night he'd returned to London. For my part I was just relieved not to play the jilted lover in this triangle – Holmes was as queer as we two but unattached as a monk, even when John Watson shared rooms with him. Holmes might have the solitary run of the Baker Street domicile these months since his return, but his dearest friend and his favourite police contact were mere minutes away and always ready to take part in a strange investigation or an evening snifter.

My mind was tossing over the logistics of the situation – sounded like something discovered just off Pall Mall, and I'd just have time to look over the situation before beginning my regular day at Scotland Yard. Some of us had normal work hours to attend to…

I did not imagine the humming sound at the other washbasin. "You're mighty cheerful for a blue o'clock summons."

"I never thought I'd get his call-to-arms ever again," John said simply. "I'm too happy about that to be cross about the hour. Is there a cab waiting for us?"

"No. And not so fast, my lad." I finished towelling my shaven face and reached for my brushes. "This is a civilised house, where men get properly washed and dressed and take their breakfast first, before attending to the whims of consulting detectives."

John smiled ear to ear and kissed my cheek, shaving soap and all. "I do approve of the change in protocol."


End file.
